


Control Freak

by alternatedoom



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Arguing, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Kink Meme, M/M, Magic, Not Beta Read, Relationship Issues, Warcraft Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 01:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15207863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alternatedoom/pseuds/alternatedoom
Summary: Kael is not and will never be wholly submissive.





	Control Freak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinyforce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyforce/gifts).



> 1\. Written for the World of Warcraft kink meme [here](https://warcraftkink.livejournal.com/588.html?thread=65612#t65612). Prompt was: _Kael'thas/Illidan_  
>  _Whenever I see slash of this pairing, Illidan always tops. Maybe it's because he's taller than Kael, maybe he's more muscular, but he's always on top, while Kael turns into that horrible weepy Uke McUke stereotype because Illidan is just so darn manly you gaiz his ass can't handle it ;_;_  
>  _I wanna see Illidan be all smug about always topping, then Kael is like 'hahaha very funny, on your knees bitch' and doms the fuck out of Illidan. Turns out Kael'thas only bottoms because he likes it and if he decided he wants Illidan to take a cock up the ass then Illidan is damn well going to take a cock up the ass!_  
>  _It can take place whenever you like in the series timeline, or in some pocket sex dimension, idk._  
>  _(bonus if Illidan has literally never been on the recieving end before)_  
>  2\. Definite relationship tension here. I am terribly fond of both these dudes but this is not a flattering portrayal of either. These two are overdue for a breakup and are not nice to each other (not that they acquit themselves that well in canon), and you might not enjoy this if you're more into an Illidan/Kael true love kinda thing. Which I also dig, but this is not that.  
> 3\. shinyforce, a fic for you in the actual fandom we share, ayyyyy. Please do not feel obligated to comment; just know that I am thinking of you. <3

Kael ascends the many steps of the Black Temple alone. He's never made a habit of teleporting around the temple, because the ability to transport himself magically is no substitute for whatever physical fitness and stamina he might need. And triumph of triumphs, he no longer becomes breathlessly winded climbing these stairs. Not as he once did when first he came to Shadowmoon Valley. Nor do his calves burn and ache, though midway through the third flight he has to cast a chilling charm to keep himself from starting to sweat in excess.

And tonight, for the first time since his initial sojourn here, he feels unbothered by his surroundings. He's become acclimated to the smoking, acrid heat of this brutal wasteland just as he's adapted to the uncivilized conditions in this grim temple

_and war unending, mass death, ruin and terror_

and just in time to leave both behind once more.

Due to the open atrium-style center, the acoustics in the temple are its truest marvel, and a diverse multitude of sounds drift up from Karabor outside or carry from within the sanctuary. Kael can pick out the distant noises of the demon hunters battling and screaming on the exterior grounds as they do all through the night. Fainter, because they're in a segregated part of the temple, is the din of the ghastly fel orcish forces eating their contaminated garbage and fighting and shouting at each other. Kael hears the endless, slow-paced marching of the demon guards on the main level patrolling around and around, the tranquil and comforting rushing of the many waterfalls and fountains, and the muted strains of Quel'Thalassian music echoing up from the sin'dorei halls. Kael tries to focus on taking in only the last two.

Kael himself moves quietly. Generating only the soft sounds of his footfalls, at last he reaches the eighth level of the arboretum. Kael strolls to the cloistered southwest corner of the private terrace only to glimpse Illidan sitting on his favored ledge and holding one of the little white flowers that grow in this part of the gardens. 

Kael's seen this behavior on previous occasions. Time was Illidan used to crumple up the blooms and cast the remnants over the edge before Kael had an opportunity to spot them. Illidan falls deeply into his meditations at times, and Kael has chanced to see these hasty disposals before. He's also noted the many crumbled, rotting white posies at the base of the level below when he leaned out far enough to look down and check.

All the flowers from the gardens are beautiful and perfectly formed, defying the broken atrocity that is Shadowmoon Valley. Kael cannot identify the species, but Illidan often picks a white one to examine when he contemplates his beloved-that-wasn't. Kael knows where his mind has gone because of the flower and because he wears that moping look on his face. They've not known each other long by elven standards, but Kael knows that look. And of late Illidan holds tenaciously to the flowers with no care that Kael might witness him in the midst of one of his surly, nostalgic piques of angst. The bloom is definitely off the rose of their romance; Kael no longer easily pulls Illidan forth from a sulky mood simply by showing up. Between longing for the priestess and plotting against his enemies, Illidan is obsession made flesh. Briefly Kael graced the top of his list of preoccupations, but no longer.

Kael wavers for a moment at the terrace entrance, weighing the idea of turning on his heel and leaving the way he came. He feels no jealousy, merely irritation. But he resumes walking and traverses the veranda to Illidan's side, stopping at the balcony area beside the southern-facing ledge.

Illidan ignores his footsteps, though a minor tic of his head indicates he's aware of Kael, and this night again he keeps his gently unbreakable hold on the white blossom, pinching the stem carefully in his claws like some kind of relic. Kael supposes any flora that manages to take root and grow in this wasteland can be considered something of a treasure, but Illidan is annoying with these flowers. If Kael were a crueler or pettier man, or if he cared more, he'd poison the whole species with a spell.

A better use of the untainted soil would be attemping to produce sustenance, however modest the quantity. Silvermoon cannot provide for all the elves here indefinitely, and one can only consume so much alchemically purified lizard meat.

Kael lays a hand on Illidan's muscular shoulder. A more present and attentive lover might place their own hand atop his, but Illidan is a dour and distracted creature where Tyrande is concerned, and he's too busy brooding to pay heed to the gesture any more than he acknowledged Kael's entrance onto the terrace.

Kael takes his hand back. He remains silent, deciding how best to draw Illidan out of his mood. Usually he falls back on his natural charisma (one must play to one's strengths) but perhaps a more candid discourse on the issue is in order.

Kael stands besides Illidan for a long time, choosing his measured words before he speaks.

"You know... I don't necessarily think their lot the better," Kael says quietly, finally.

Illidan laughs, a short and bitter bark that tells Kael he has, at least, understood who Kael means.

"Really," Illidan says, still without looking at him. "You wouldn't choose to change things, to be far from here and have your little human at your side."

"Do not dare call her that," Kael says with a flash of anger. He should never have shared his history with Jaina with Illidan, and he suspects Illidan feels much the same way about telling him of Tyrande. Kael will refrain from disclosing so much in the future. "Not least because she is not and was never mine."

Illidan customarily treats Kael with deference, and when their relationship began he was consistently admiring, appreciative, even reverent when they were alone. Now, when Illidan falls into these snits, his manner grows rude and insulting.

Kael turns away, putting his back to the low stone wall that serves as a railing to look west. As night falls the landscape is foreboding and barren as ever, and the ashy smog that hangs in the air prevents seeing far into the distance. Even on a clear day, the horizon offers little picturesque to see, unless one enjoys scorched earth, deadly magma flows, or looming, sky-high fel volcanos. "No, I would not change the past. At least not that part."

"No?"

"There are no events I could alter that would have led down that road," Kael says, idly walking the few steps to the other side of the secluded overlook. The torch he once bore for her feels like it belonged to someone else, not to him, and a lifetime ago besides. Kael feels only a distant sympathy for that poor naive soul who had no conception of what nightmares lay ahead. "That outcome simply was not to be." 

He has empathy enough for Jaina too, spilling over like an ache inside his chest. Kael curls his fingers against the stone, thinking of Arthas. "Besides, she hasn't exactly had things work out the way she desired, either. If you love her still, Tyrande's--"

"Do not speak her name," Illidan interrupts, voice ominous. Kael is undaunted. He's learned that while Illidan's bark may be menacing, he is not driven to lash out easily. Sexually Illidan may have a dominant streak a league wide, but in private he is made of softer stuff than he likes to let on.

"As you wish," Kael says with a touch of sarcasm. "Since you are so polite yourself. Shall I call her 'the woman who spurned you'?"

Illidan says nothing.

"She has her happy ending, perhaps, but she doesn't have you." Kael smiles slightly, and shrugs. "You have you, which is not nothing, and you cannot change another's heart. I am only saying, I don't let memory rule me, and you should not let it rule you either."

"I name you liar," Illidan says, not looking up.

Sniping back and forth is one thing. Now his honor has been impeached.

Without overthinking, Kael reacts with physical aggression. He closes the distance between them with abrupt steps and seizes the horn closest to his reach, wrenching to turn Illidan's face up. Surprised, Illidan's wide fel-light eyes meet Kael's, his expression startled and then turning aggravated.

"Do not accuse me of lies," Kael tells him.

With a rolling sweep of his neck Illidan uses the leverage of Kael's grip against him, yanking Kael down and knocking the wind out of him. Kael lets go too late but avoids being dashed to the terrace ledge, regaining his balance and managing to land with athleticism in a sitting position against Illidan's side.

No sooner has he recovered himself than one clawed hand shoots out to grasp Kael by the front of his robes. Easily separating Kael's hand from his horn with another twist of his huge head, Illidan drags him even closer and pulls Kael's face right up to his monstrous one.

"Do not do that again," Illidan says, every word a warning.

"I don't seem likely to break you, _master_ ," Kael tells him calmly, leaning farther forward to demonstrate to Illidan he's not bothered by the violation of personal space. Their lips nearly brush together and their noses fleetingly collide. Their mutual animosity and proximity could turn into a wrathful kiss... but does not.

"It is disrespectful." Illidan releases his robes and pushes him slightly back.

"So is calling me a liar when I open myself to you," Kael answers, turning his voice curt. He wonders, not for the first time, how they would square off in a fight. Illidan is powerful, yes, but tonight Kael thinks he might have the advantage, indeed, he feels himself aflame with the possibilities. The thought is folly, but the irrational feeling remains. "You show respect to receive it."

Illidan gives him a long look, and Kael wonders for the thousandth time what he sees through the blindfold. Does Illidan only move his head around out of lifelong habit, or perhaps looking in any given direction is a shortcut to vision he might otherwise have to concentrate for? Does he see in outlines, has he sonar like a bat? Is his world black and white and grey? A multitude of colors beyond the spectrum of what elves can reckon or even imagine? He hasn't asked. He will never ask.

For a second he thinks Illidan might actually apologize, but in the end, Illidan only bows his sullen head, returning his attention to the flower in his hand. Crushing and throwing the blossom over the ledge as Kael has seen him do before, Illidan picks up the sinister orcish skull resting to his far side, stroking the gleaming maxilla in that disturbing way he does.

Kael reaches out and flicks the surface of the forehead of the skull, feeling the dark energy even in the momentary connection of a single fingernail. The snap of his nail hitting bone throws off a strange, impossibly hollow echo. Illidan tucks the skull protectively into the crook of his other arm, defensive as though holding an infant Kael is threatening, casting a glare at him for his trespass in touching the remains even so lightly and briefly.

"Nothing to say? Do I mean so little to you then?" Kael asks coldly. "Another whore for the collection? A warrior concubine, to serve you in bed and go at your side into battle?"

Illidan's expression changes. The testy emotion drains from his face and his eyebrows lift, but Kael is cross now and he is not finished. Kael will be no one's second choice. "All while you sulk and pine for your lost chance with a woman who never loved you? You come up here to choose a ghost from another life over one who cares for you, one who is allied with _you_ and no other?"

"Kael," Illidan begins, softening, sounding as humbled as such a deep voice allows. "No. I value your contributions, your counsel and your company."

"Then try acting like it. Come to bed. Come live your life. Or remain with your ghosts, if you prefer to pick daisies and fondle bones all night. But tell me if that is your choice." Kael leaves the last part unsaid: _so that I might extricate myself if so._

In the blink of an eye, Illidan's momentary remorse and humility are gone and his ire risen again (undoubtedly due to the crack about his paraphernalia). "I will decide when we adjourn to the bedchamber. Not you."

Illidan may be his commander in affairs of war, and Illidan has thus far ruled him amidst the cushions in one room or the other, but Kael will not tolerate a love affair conducted with no space for give and take. Nor can he tolerate a love affair with a companion who spends all his spare time bleakly yearning for another-- but Kael pushes that thought to the side. He is only vexed with Illidan's detachment, his superiority complex, and his smug self-absorption, as though he is the only creature in the universe who has ever known pain, as though he is the only personage capable of making decisions large or small. Control freak, Kael's brain supplies, a Common term he learned in Dalaran. "Everything is always your decision. It grows tiresome."

"I am your master--"

Kael has had enough. "Get up," Kael demands, gracefully rising to his feet.

Illidan scowls up at him. "Why should I?"

"Tonight, Master," he says, quietly, "tonight you will take my orders."

Rarely has Kael seen Illidan look so displeased. "You go too far. That is my place, my right. You are sworn to me."

Kael laughs. "Oh, please."

Illidan's glowing fel-light eyes widen beneath the blindfold. He appears offended.

"You believe you have earned the right to my body then, to fuck me as you will, when the whim strikes?" Kael's laugh is ugly this time, scornful.

Illidan's face sours a little further at the coarse language, the corner of his mouth twisting.

"I swore to ally myself and my people with you. I recall no oaths to bed you," Kael reminds him. "Nor any promises as to how I would bed you when that began."

Kael waits to see if Illidan will protest, but his master says nothing.

"I will take your orders and execute your commands in our war. But in private, I am not your servant. I see now that I have been too free with you," Kael says. 

Illidan's frowning, but he seems more surprised than anything.

"We are going to bed, and we are going now. In the spirit of freedom-- shall we say, freedom of desire over the bondage of promises?-- we are going to do something different tonight."

"And what is that?" Illidan growls.

Holding eye contact, Kael slowly and deliberately reaches out and grips Illidan again by one black ridged horn. He does not exert any great force on Illidan's head this time, only moves his hand fractionally, a tiny, careful tug, so that what he's doing is clear. Taking control.

Illidan could flex the massive muscles in his thick neck to resist, but he allows his head to be slanted as Kael delicately pulls his horn, his unnatural musculature pliable as that of the normal kaldorei he once must have been. He stares at Kael, baleful, perhaps even unnerved.

Kael lets go of him. "Did I forget about a vow?"

"No," Illidan says slowly, sounding far less sure of himself than usual. After a moment, Illidan rises.

"Come, then," Kael demands, and he turns to lead Illidan from the gardens. Kael refrains from looking back until they reach the end of the terrace and the nearest of the private chambers. Judging by his expression, Illidan's unease has grown on the short walk, but he follows Kael inside without complaint.

Kael assesses the room at a glance. It's a long-unused, austere dormitory chamber that has not been refurnished since their occupation of the temple and holds only a row of ancient old beds. Large ones, though--the draenei who slept here must have shared three or four to a mattress.

It'll do.

"Something different then." Kael rests a hand on Illidan's back. "Pick a bed and bend over."

"You-- no." Illidan recoils, glaring at him. "No. That is for submissive males."

"Submissive--!" Kael stares back flabbergasted as the pieces fall into place. "Do you think me less of a man for allowing you to take me?"

Illidan looks down at him condescendingly. Kael doubts he even knows he's doing it. 

"No, but you are-- a certain kind of man."

Kael looks at him disbelievingly, then handholds him to the crest and conclusion of his poor logic. "And pray tell, what sort of man is that?"

Illidan hesitates, as though realizing his misstep. "I..." Illidan starts, then trails off, and when he collects himself and begins again his voice comes out tenderly. "My fiery prince, you cannot truly expect --"

"I said pick a bed," Kael repeats, cutting him off in a tone that brooks no argument, "and bend over."

Illidan gives him a troubled and apprehensive look, but when Kael gives him a little shove Illidan obeys, genuflecting over the nearest bed meek as a lamb, visibly full of trepidation. Savage half-demon creature that he is, Illidan only wears a single tattered piece of clothing that requires removal.

Kael reaches around, delving underneath the attached belt to unlace Illidan's pants by feel, allowing the garment to drop to the floor and revealing his master in his entirity. Illidan's lavender skin color is alien, but it's childishly pretty, too, especially where the color is touched by darker violet, and where the demonic markings blaze over his body. Kael moves in behind him. Kael's not yet seen his master from this revealing angle, and he tilts his head, taking it all in.

"Let-- let me please you with my mouth," Illidan mutters, evidently having second or third thoughts, and Kael believes he hears a hint of fear in the muffled flurry of words. Without waiting for Kael's answer, Illidan starts to rise and straighten.

Kael laughs before he can stop himself and plants a hand between Illidan's shoulder blades, preventing him getting more than a few inches off the cushions. "Not likely, no. No thank you." Kael adores nothing so much as a good suck job, but Illidan's mouth is deep into full-on demon territory, his generous lips enlarged to disfigured proportions and full of razor-sharp teeth in many shapes and lengths. Kael has no intention of sliding his cock into a monstrous mountain range of teeth inside a closed cave, especially if Illidan suffers from inexperience. Illidan is dangerous even to kiss; after the first few times Kael's tongue emerged from Illidan's mouth accidentally scraped and bleeding, he began to kiss Illidan more dormantly, allowing Illidan to forcefully annex his mouth but no longer dipping his own tongue past Illidan's lips.

Well, his time of carefree submission ends now.

"No," Kael repeats. "I have my heart, and other parts, set on this now." Lasciviously he grabs a fistful of Illidan's ass, squeezing.

Kael exerts slight pressure on Illidan's back, and Illidan hesitates but allows himself to be pushed flat onto the bed again. 

Kael wraps Illidan's ponytail around one hand, pulling his head back to the farthest range of motion of his neck so Kael can reach and speak into his ear. "Usually, master, I am most content to take your cock, but that is only because I like to. Not because you own me. Not because I am weak, or passive, or _a certain kind of man_."

Illidan grunts when Kael pulls his hair, but he says nothing.

"And tonight, you will take mine," Kael whispers, letting his tongue flick wetly against the skin inside the shell of Illidan's ear. Sensitive skin, Kael judges, by the way Illidan quivers beneath him. "You will see that it does not change you." He presses his lips to Illidan's ear, planting kisses in a long row. "You will not deny me my pleasure," he whispers. "I must take what I want."

Illidan squirms minutely beneath him, reluctant even now.

Kael runs his fingers along Illidan's sides, caressing the curves of his abdomen where the bulky muscles are thinnest. The warlocks cast a spell they call _Demon Skin_ , to toughen mortal elven flesh into hide denser than leather armor for battle, and the name is no misnomer. One of the open fel practitioners let Kael touch him once under the effect of the spell, and Kael experimentally groped along an altered arm. He remembers his hand sliding over skin turned stiff and smooth like leather from a stingray, oiled and polished to a hard sheen. Illidan's coriaceous skin is close but not quite the same, still smooth and thick but more snakelike and alive. Nevertheless, the resilient effect is the same even if the sensation is not quite identical under Kael's fingers. Kael scrapes fiercely with his scarlet nails, raking Illidan's sides in a way that would imprint severe scratches on anyone normal, and leaves nary a mark.

 _No_ , Illidan's whispering, but Illidan's version of whispers are sonorous and high-volume. _I will-- I will not. You can._

Kael presses his fingers hard into the roundest parts of Illidan's asscheeks, digging deep so Illidan will feel it in his dense muscles, and he bites Illidan's shoulder.

Illidan makes a short, pained sound in answer, but he also flexes his hips in little movements, and Kael feels him better aligned into the correct mental space now. Kael continues his purposeful play, kissing Illidan's shoulder, nibbling at the tough skin before gnawing openly, using his teeth with force. Illidan groans long and low, with an edge of want or pain or fear, or perhaps all three.

Kael straightens and kicks Illidan's cloven hoofs apart, spreading his stance wider.

"I haven't--" Illidan says hoarsely, as though that truth were not made patently obvious already, and there's a low, hesitant note in his deep voice Kael hasn't ever heard before.

"Afraid I'll hurt you?" Kael asks mockingly. He would reassure a more timid lover, but Illidan does not have his pity.

Illidan growls like a trapped creature ready to lash out, but Kael puts a calming hand on his neck, squeezing with firm pressure as he would a feral Springpaw lynx in the fourth step of the casting of a soothing incantation. (Stage dependent on the animal's wildness and level of fear.) Illidan seems almost in need of such magical reassurance, with his breathing coming rapidly and prickles of perspiration breaking out over his back.

"Shhh," Kael commands. Given their size differential and Illidan's near-imperviousness to injury, Kael sees no need to prepare Illidan at all. Kael's cock is barely thicker than one of Illidan's fingers before the swollen, elongated digits narrow into grotesque talons.

Kael opens his robes one handed, taking out his cock and giving himself a few teasing caresses. But he needs more. With a cantrip Kael slicks his cock, stroking himself attentively, enjoying the moment.

Illidan clearly does not share his sense of pleasant anticipation. Illidan's heart is thudding at a pace fit to wake the dead as Kael begins touching him, pulling this way and that at Illidan's large buttocks, getting them as far apart as he can, drawing the skin taut as Illidan often does to him, as though he must tug and explore every inch to know how best to get deep within Kael.

Kael brushes his glans back and forth and up and down against Illidan's entrance, transferring wetness. Considerately he adds more slickness to himself. "All your long life, and you never became curious what it felt like?"

Answering takes Illidan a few moments. "Not so curious as to try it," he says harshly.

"Then I'm pleased for the honor of being the first to claim you so," Kael says, and without further ado he lines up and presses the head of his cock in through Illidan's entrance.

Kael comes up against the inner ring of muscle and stops that far in, the head of his cock and no further, but upon penetration Illidan's wings instantly jolt up around Kael in a startled, instinctive sweep, and Illidan makes a noise that quickly turns into a loud snarl. But he makes no move to stop what's happening, says no word, and after a moment his wings settle back into their leaden spread, falling down limply. The bow of his neck suggests a sense of defeat, or shame.

"Relax," Kael whispers, and he waits out some of Illidan's obvious discomfort before launching another bout of the same. Illidan's internal muscles are rigidly tensed against him. For the space of a minute Kael nudges repeatedly against the wall of resistance, forcing himself deeper by degrees with each tiny, easy undulation.

"Give yourself to me," Kael tells him.

Illidan writhes under him, but Kael will not be shaken off. He pushes a bit harder.

"I will have you. Let me," he urges, and Illidan cries out as Kael punctures through the ring of muscle at last.

And then he's in.

Kael sighs with the satisfaction of tightness and the building tension alike as he breaches Illidan fully, continuing his slow inward slide and finally bottoming out. Kael orbits his hips a little against Illidan's, making him feel every inch.

"Now imagine if my prick in you was three times this size," Kael says while Illidan is still feeling the stretch and the pain, before he relaxes into the more pleasurable experience of penetration. "That's how it is for me, of course."

Illidan sounds choked. "I did not-- know--"

"Hereafter when you fuck," Kael says, "you will always think of it."

Kael pulls out far enough to graze the tip of his cock with the pad of his index finger, dipping into his foreskin to dot his finger with a blend of the fluid he conjured and the first natural drops of his own leaking seed. Tracing his dampened finger in a graceful, artful symbol in the air above Illidan's back, Kael silently weaves a memory charm to that effect. The subtlest of enchantments, nothing Illidan will notice. At the moment, Kael deems Illidan heavily distracted, his body tense as a bow waiting for Kael's next touch, or his re-entry.

_Remember._

"But you won't have to imagine what it is like for me when I allow you to take me," Kael says, and he begins a second spell, this time to increase his proportions. He's not so cruel as to hold to exact size ratios right off the bat given the great disparity in Illidan's sexual experience with the breadth of his own, but he wishes to impress upon Illidan some respect for the bodily onus endured by the receptive partner. Kael loves the feeling of a cock moving inside him, but even after many times the experience with Illidan usually involves some measure of discomfort, because Illidan is huge.

"What are you doing?" The words come out resonant but mumbled, indistinct like Illidan's talking from behind his sharp-clenched teeth.

"I'm going to show you," Kael murmurs. "I want you to feel what it's like. To be with someone like you."

Even as Kael finishes his spell he's sheathing himself again, going as far in as he can, feeling his cock swelling and enlarging. He slides in until his balls slap soundly against solid flesh. Illidan's arms are outstretched over the bed in front of him, reaching nearly all the way across to the other side, and Kael half-notices him clawing the blankets and cushioning to shreds.

"You're too old to cling to such foolish notions about manhood," he tells Illidan, punctuating his words with the movements of his hips. "Do you want to know what kind of man I am?"

Illidan gives him no answer, so pulling his head back again, Kael leans down and whispers into his long ear, teasing the flesh with his tongue and wet breath. "I am the kind of man who will not be denied."

Illidan shudders, and Kael straightens and slaps his flank, making him jerk. "Now move for me."

Illidan remains still for a few seconds, the muscles of his his back tightening as if with automatic resistance to this next step of compliance, but then he begins to move his hips, slightly and slowly at first.

"Faster. Meet my rhythm," Kael says, and Illidan starts moving faster and harder, until he's slamming back to meet Kael's hips the way Kael usually fucks back against him.

"I'd have to be mad to stick my cock between your lips, my pet," Kael tells him. "Not only because of all those teeth, but because why would I care to when I have this waiting for me whenever I want it?"

Illidan groans.

Kael smacks Illidan's buttcheek again. "Be still." Illidan's broad pelvis slows its rocking and comes to a stop. Withdrawing, Kael grows his endowment one last time, until his erection is too heavy not to support it at the base with his hands.

Kael's utilized this spell before, but never to this ludicrous extent. Who else could he ever have fucked like this?

Kael takes a good look at the obscenity he has wrought: his cock is well over a foot long with the diameter of an oversized Quel'Thalassian cylinder vase. Were he to attempt to walk around in this condition, his cock would drag down his pelvis. He'd have to tote his length around in his hands, carrying it before him like a low-slung knapsack, or have a special harness sewn. But now he has Illidan to hold and cradle his cock in all his master's nervous, virginal tightness. Sex against heavy furnishings solves the center of balance problem with a source of stability, and with Illidan's torso burdening the wooden frame the bed weighs a ton. 

Kael decides the enlargement is enough, and as he sinks back into Illidan with a sigh of pleasure and Illidan howls, he decides it's enough for Illidan too.

He passes his hands over Illidan's back again, feeling the straining muscles in his torso. "Touch yourself," Kael orders, and he's certain Illidan has inner depths of submission, because Illidan immediately reaches between his own legs to clasp his cock. Carefully, Kael imagines, sticking with the parts that are more finger than claw. Self-pleasuring must be difficult for him, Kael thinks, and he angles his thrusts to hit the place inside Illidan most like to satisfy him. If Illidan's keening sounds are anything to go by, he notices.

Standard physique or freakish, biology is biology.

Reaching forward, Kael again grips Illidan's tied-back hair and yanks his head up, far more roughly this time. Illidan does not moan so much as rumble, like a beast. The sound would resemble a purr if not for the edge of anger, the barely restrained growl that's implied. But Illidan allows himself to be manhandled, and Kael can feel the rhythm of Illidan's jerky motions as he tries to attend to his own need. 

_He's not used to touching himself._

"Tell me what you're doing to your cock," Kael demands. Illidan rarely communicates during sex, remaining quiet save for his infrequent sounds, though he seems to enjoy Kael's dirty talk once he's gotten going. Kael has not minded, but now he wants to push Illidan out of his comfort zone. Here and now, he can enjoin Illidan to talk as much as he desires to hear.

Illidan fails to respond, and Kael slaps his asscheek again. "Answer me."

Illidan's voice comes out husky and almost accusing. "Rubbing it, as you said."

"How?"

Illidan seems to be struggling to compose words. "Against-- just my palm--"

"The glans or your whole cock? Be specific."

Illidan again fails to answer right away, and Kael delivers a keen and unexpected pinch of his right asscheek accentuated by magic, making Illidan's buttocks tense and stiffen. 

"The tip," Illidan rasps.

"Beautiful, pet. You wish your cock was inside me right now, don't you?"

This time, Illidan's thrumming increase in bodily tension is nothing negative, only arousal and his building orgasm. Kael can tell the difference.

"You want to be where I'm hot and slippery and almost unbearably tight, my ass gripping your cock so hard you can barely stand it," Kael murmurs, riffing. "Knowing no one will ever satisfy you as I do, and that when you empty your balls inside me, it's the closest you'll ever come to knowing peace--"

Illidan's insides are progressively tightening as he approaches his edge. "Please," Illidan says, begging. "My prince, please--"

Sucking in his lips and biting them, Kael increases the force and speed of his thrusts to usher Illidan over the threshold to orgasm, going all out. Dartling the unusually ponderous weight of his cock back and forth is a challenge. But the sensation inside Illidan is gloriously delicious, as though Kael's capacity for pleasure has been increased to compensate for the additional labor and slightly slower speed required for longer in-and-out thrusts. Perhaps it's all the extra nerve endings.

"Go on, come for me," he urges.

Illidan usually climaxes in silence, sometimes with a snarl, but now he makes a noise not unlike a sob, and the muscles surrounding Kael's cock clench down, swiftly pulsating with tightness as Illidan comes.

Mercilessly Kael continues to fuck him through his peak, then gives up any pretense of rhythm, simply rutting in short, rocking thrusts to the goal of his own orgasm. Illidan gasps under him until at last, shaking with ecstacy and feeling every inch of the hugeness of his own cock, Kael pushes all the way in, clutches at Illidan's hips and pumps his seed into Illidan's body.

Illidan's still breathing hard under him when Kael comes back to himself. He slumps down over the hot, damp skin of Illidan's back, enjoying the aftershocks and the movement of Illidan's huffing breaths beneath him.

At last Kael returns to his feet and pulls out delicately, but despite his care Illidan groans again. When he's three-quarters vacated Kael annuls the spell enlarging his cock, shrinking himself back to actual size before withdrawing fully.

Illidan behaves almost shyly afterwards. Taciturn. As they shift positions, moving to lie side by side on the clawed and demolished bed, he avoids Kael's gaze, but his expression is nothing like when he broods. More hesitant, uncertain, even a bit stunned.

Kael stretches, lazy, with all the tension and resentment drained out of him. His release has left him pleased and deeply relaxed, and Illidan's new reticence inclines him to generosity. Illidan needs some affection, some aftercare and charm.

Kael rolls over and climbs atop Illidan's pelvis, lightly touching his hands to Illidan's bare abdomen for balance. "You're no different than before," Kael tells him gently. "Or at least, I see you no differently." A bald lie: what he sees is his master shaken after being unmistakably put in his place. "If you had fewer terrible ideas about sex, you would know better than to feel shamed."

"I do not feel shamed," Illidan says, looking up vehemently.

"Please. Your hangups would make Elune weep. Let them go."

Illidan glares at him, then shifts his gaze away.

Illidan has all the emotional maturity of a turnip, Kael reflects.

 _Do not underestimate me_ , he could say here in the aftermath, while Illidan still feels vulnerable and will remember the lesson. _Do not take me for granted._

Often, in Kael's lengthy course of experience, a phase of fervid infatuation with a person blinds you to their faults, but he came into this more personal realm of their partnership with his eyes wide open. Perversely, he finds Illidan's warped appearance fascinatingly attractive, and he's enjoyed much of their time together. However, Kael has always been strongly self-aware, and from the start he's been honest with himself that he wanted Illidan largely for curiosity's sake, for sheer intrigued lust, and simply to see whether he could have his new master, distant and strange as he was. And upon achieving his wish, Kael unfortunately got rather carried away by passion. He thought perhaps he might whisper in Illidan's ear, have greater leverage over the course of their intertwined destinies, be the power behind the metaphorical throne.

And now he has Illidan... and simultaneously he doesn't, and never will. Illidan is a garden ledge full of decaying white flowers plucked from the soil, and an unnaturally glistening skull in a clawed hand, and epochs of damage and dead reminiscences. Illidan is fel-beam-focused scheming with a singular goal, and his only throne is a throne of lies.

Kil'jaeden's huge and terrifying carmine face, his even more gargantuan shoulders backdropped by a pillar of green flames, flashes to his mind. Kael knows with harrowing certainty that he will be venturing fathoms out of his depth. But fate has left him little choice. 

Onwards and upwards.

"To endure such only makes you stronger, if anything," Kael suggests, swallowing against the sudden thick dread that has collected in his throat. With intention he strokes his hands over the broad lilac chest, exactly the color of syringa vulgaris, for Illidan responds well to physical touch. "It won't hurt so much the second time, if you ever do it again."

Illidan looks slightly mollified at his first statement, though he averts his eyes again at the second. Kael is skilled at beguiling him, at drawing him out, at soothing ruffled feathers. "It was pleasing, in the end," Illidan admits grudgingly.

Kael folds his arms on Illidan's chest, leaning down to kiss his master, and tonight his tongue hazards the cove of shark's teeth.


End file.
